A recollection of past events that have passed.
Images conjured of things that had once occurred,
memories we call them, thoughts that we grasp.
Some of which we want to keep and remember,
Some of which we want to forever leave and forget.
Some of which are from the cold of December
some of which are just a lonely haunting regret.
And they become more than mere memories,
because it simply wasn't in our unchanged destiny.
Things that were simply just not meant to be,
contradicting our chemistry and all thoughts of serenity.
We fought hard just to let things go and let it be,
no stories left to tell and no remaining legacies.
I dared not to ask forgiveness for my felonies,
instead I remained indulgent in all of my melodies.
Things that pass become a mere fleeting thought,
a conflicting struggle in mind; an internal war.
I desire so much to forget and rid of these memories,
but how can I forget the happiness that you had once brought?
Memories. It's all that is left of us.
You are gone now; I don't have your touch.
Not your whisper; not our loving lust,
or the lyrics of the songs that we sung.